


A Gross Misuse of Authority

by GayFrankensteinsMonster



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, PWP, Pegging, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:05:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayFrankensteinsMonster/pseuds/GayFrankensteinsMonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1630 HOURS<br/>Sgt. Grif locks himself and PFC Simmons in his quarters, claiming they have a "private training session" together. He does not come out for several hours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gross Misuse of Authority

**Author's Note:**

> how do yall like unbetad smut with gross awful gay folks   
> im super bad at writing smut so this is essentially just the worst   
> it's set back between seasons 5-6 in rat's nest and despite the title there is no gross misuse of authority beyond grif just being a bad co  
> if you know me irl please don't talk to me about this

“...What did you just say?”

Simmons paused, peering his head out of the hem of his shirt and over at his partner. Grif had frozen up when Simmons took his shirt off, leaning on the wall behind the bed and kicking his feet into the sheets. He was staring down and avoiding eye contact, embarrassed beyond belief, really. Stripped naked except for boxers, hair falling free from his bun in little wispy loops, and heat practically radiating off his face, and  _ embarrassed _ .

“Nothing. I said you- You look good. I take it back. It was a mistake. You look- bad. You look like crap. Oh god I sure do have some issues here.”

Grif covered his face, groaning and curling in on himself. Obviously a little confused, Simmons gathered up all the, well, supplies he needed for the night and plopped down on the bed next to Grif.

“So, what exactly is the issue here- the pegging, or the. The, uh. The whole. Boob thing.”

“Look, it’s not- It’s not an issue, it’s more, a, a thing, that I am very, very much into, a lot more than I should be-”

“...The pegging or the boob thing.”

“You just look, just, you’re so soft and you’ve got this little, like, belly, I mean, God, Dick, you know I've never seen you without your shirt on, I mean I’m  _ super _ attracted to you _ -” _

He paused, drawing his legs up to his chest and dragging his hands through his hair. Somehow, he'd managed to make being sexually attracted to a sexual partner feel weird. Good fucking job. Simmons fidgeted with one of the buckles on his strapon, staring down at his lap. Grif had scared him off, or set off some kind of dysphoric attack or something. Simmons was going to punch his dick and get up and leave, it was inevitable. He'd fucked it up. Time to leave Rat’s Nest and change his name. Absolutely time to go AWOL. 

“So, what. Do you want to call me mommy or something while I’m fucking you, or. What.”

“I mean, would it fuck you up too much? Cause, I'm not into the name itself but that's. That's a good sorta dynamic for me.”

A shrug, and Simmons tried to wriggle his way out of his sports bra. That was a little surprising, really. Grif rested his cheek on his forearm, staring over at Simmons. Normally reserved and anxious about being completely naked, this was, in several months, the first time Grif had seen Simmons shirtless. And he looked… Good. He looked lean but, well, chubby wasn't the word. There was a pit of pudge, really. Soft hips, lovehandles, really, and a little swell of a belly, flushed across his cheeks and shoulders, about to pound the hell out of Grif with a detachable dong- 

Simmons lobbed his bra over at Grif, snorting. 

“You're staring. Fetishist.”

Okay, he might be guilty of that. Grif just wrinkled his nose up, propping his chin up in his hand to better stare at his boyfriend. Simmons was obviously having a hell of a time undoing the stupid buckles on his dildo, and he huffed in frustration. The bottle of lube he'd grabbed was unceremoniously tossed at Grif. 

“You go ahead and start prepping yourself, cause this thing is being a fuckin’ pest.”

“Way to kill the romance, you ass.”

“I don't see how you can put romance in getting your ass fingered.”

“I don't see how you  _ can't. _ ”

Simmons just rolled his eyes, turning his back on his partner. Said partner was generously pouring lube onto his fingers, reaching behind himself, and completely fucking up. 

“Shit. Uh, hey, take my boxers off, will you?”

“What, is that the romance part?”

“Fuck you, I'll make it an official order from your goddamn sergeant. I got my hand all lube-y and I forgot to-”

Grumbling about that being an abuse of the chain of command, Simmons sat back up on the bed and peeled off Grif’s boxers, narrowly avoiding getting kicked in the face by flailing Hawaiian feet. By some small miracle, Grif’s cock was standing at attention, and not being strangled by his hangups and anxiety and all that crap. Boners were great. He'd have to try and keep them around more often. Simmons had spaced out, hand curled around Grif’s dick and thumb absently stroking over the head.

“Dick. Richard. Rich.”

No more daydreaming about whatever it was you were daydreaming about, Simmons. It was time to pay attention to the hot piece of fat gay man in front of you. Blinking once, he focused again, leaning down to press a kiss to a freckle by Grif’s bellybutton. 

Only to be poked in the forehead by a lube-smeared finger. Revenge for spacing out. And also because Grif thought of something funny to say. 

“I’m like the King Midas of anal, Dick. KY Midas.”

“Okay, one, I fucking hate you. Two, it does not take that much, Jesus Christ-”

“Hey, when it's your ass taking the pounding, you can decide how much is too much.”

“My ass is made of copper! Do you really want to stick your cock in that?”

“Only if there's no chance that I'll fax a dickpic to someone I respect.”

“You don't respect anyone!”

Grif opened his mouth to say something, but the response just turned into a full-on laugh. He sat up, leaned down to kiss the top of Simmons’ head. This was ridiculous. It was a ridiculous situation. When he spoke up, he was still wheezing from the outburst. 

“We are so fucking bad at this.”

“Says the gay sergeant about to get pounded by one of his underlings.”

“Oh, fuck you, that's a low blow. Me being your CO has nothing to do with this.”

Simmons just snorted in response, sitting back on his knees and grabbing the strapon again. He cocked an eyebrow, looking Grif over. 

“You bet. Come on, you gonna do this? Or am I gonna have to do it for you, oh my  _ God  _ how are you into this.”

“Fuck off! If you're going to make fun of me, I'll just discipline my own damn self.”

“I'm not making fun of you, it's just. It's weird. Jeez. Seriously, though, can you at least start?”

Grif stuck his tongue out at Simmons, poking the purple silicone dick strapped to his hips with a toe. He was  _ getting there _ . Once he was comfortably situated, he relaxed a bit, propping a leg up and arching his back to press his fingers against his hole. He used to do this a lot, he could remember how, okay. Relax, reach behind, start off slow. Simmons watching was giving Grif some mixed feelings. On one hand, he was openly staring, hands curled against his own legs as Grif stretched himself, the tips of his ears gone pink. On the other, he, for  _ once,  _ looked like he actually found something attractive about Grif. And hell, Simmons didn't look bad himself, all soft skin and freckles and tiny mosquito-bite breasts and little red stretchmarks on his hips and belly. 

Grif cleared his throat, grabbing a pillow with his free hand and holding it against his own face. He was in trouble. He was so damn flustered and he was about to get pounded into a mattress by his overeager boyfriend who he'd just asked to roleplay his damn dirty kinks. Oh, he was in  _ trouble _ . Grif just pressed more fingers inside himself, lip caught between his teeth and breath hitching a bit. He rocked his hips up against nothing, almost a little lost in the sensation of stretching himself out, and almost forgetting his dang robot partner was still there. 

The pillow he was hiding his face behind was tugged down, Simmons’ crooked grin revealing itself. Diabolical. Now he could feel how flushed Grif’s face was, and hear the little breaths that he had been doing his best to hide. 

“Good boy.”

“Don’t start making fun of me now, you ass.”

Simmons rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to Grif’s nose and resting his forehead against Grif’s. 

“I  _ wasn’t _ , I’m just trying to make this work. You’re so insecure.”

“It’s weird, okay, I’m not used to opening up about the stuff I’m into.”

Another kiss, this one pressed chastely against Grif’s lips. 

“You just let me take care of you. How ‘bout that?”

The tone Simmons took on was affectionate and soft but still so  _ hungry _ , Jesus, it went straight to Grif’s dick and made his toes curl in the sheets. Grif closed his eyes, feeling Simmons shift between his legs and the head of his (not  _ really _ his, but close enough) cock press against him. There were cold hands sliding up his thighs, circling around the backs of his knees to prop his legs up. Deep breath, relax, and Simmons was leaning forward, lips pressed to the corner of Grif’s mouth. He was talking quietly, reassuring and soothing words that were lost in the haze. Grif didn't need reassurance, he just needed to focus on the physical sensations.

And those physical sensations were one hell of a thing to focus on. He felt full and stretched and on the edge of sore, cock squished between his and Simmons’ bodies, Simmons,  _ Simmons _ bottoming out and hips flush against Grif’s. Simmons shifted, kissed over Grif’s cheeks and down his neck, sunk his teeth into the skin over Grif’s collarbone. His hips shifted, pulling back, and then he was slamming forward, hands dug into Grif’s hips as he thrusted. It was just barely on the right side of too much, and Grif’s eyes snapped open. This was a change of pace, for sure. He looped his arm’s around Simmons’ torso, nails biting into his skin. 

“Zero to sixty, huh?”

He tried to give the words a touch of snark, but his voice just ended up cracking off into something that couldn't be called anything but an undignified whine. Simmons bit him again, sucking hard and leaving a bruise on the crook of Grif’s shoulder where dark skin met pink rings of scar tissue. That was answer enough. They'd settled into a comfortable rhythm, Simmons leaving hickeys on Grif’s neck and still thrusting, tirelessly. It was great, amazing, even- it'd be even greater if Simmons would give Grif a hand, just touch his cock and let him get off, stop  _ teasing _ -

And then Simmons changed his angle, the toy inside Grif dragging against his prostate and his dick  _ throbbed _ , he was bucking his hips and raking his nails down Simmons’ back. He whined, squirmed, buried his face against Simmons’ shoulder and moaned, trying anything that might spur his partner on. Simmons slowed his thrusts, moving back and looking down at Grif as he gripped his hips. His voice was questioning, cracked once in the middle, but he delivered his line well enough. 

“Come on, be a good boy and ask nicely.”

Delivered well enough that it sent a full-body shudder through Grif. He arched his back up off the bed, legs locked around Simmons’ hips as he begged, pleaded, made promises and did anything he could to fulfill Simmons’ request. Grif was aching and sore, cock slick and pressed against his belly and everything was borderline uncomfortable but it was so damn  _ good _ . Simmons leaned down, kissed Grif’s temple. His hand moved from digging bruises into Grif’s thigh to stroking him, lazy and gentle compared to the methodical, deep grinding of his hips. 

It was just barely enough. Grif came all over Simmons’ hand and his own stomach, breathless and shuddering when his partner gave one last thrust and pulled out. He was a wreck, legs twitchy and chest heaving. 

“Wow. You are really out of shape.”

“Hey, you- You shush. I put this down as a training exercise, so technically it's a workout.”

“You  _ scheduled  _ this?”

“No, no, I just clear off the whole day. Said I'd be working on routines.”

Simmons sat back on his knees, rolling his eyes as he tried to wriggle his strapon off his hips. 

“So that's your workout routine? You plan on doing that to everyone in the base? I might get jealous.”

“Nah, you get to be a personal trainer. One-on-one sessions.”

Grif sat up, wincing at the stiffness in his legs, and kissed Simmons on the cheek. He was going to be feeling some kind of way later, but for now he was happy enough to sit in the afterglow. Simmons, apparently, was not. He dropped his strapon onto the floor and straddled Grif’s hips, hands carding through his hair. 

“Round two, then?”

**Author's Note:**

> (how does simmons get a dildo you ask well bein a trans dude n having your bf being technically your co means you can send away for whatever you want for "health reasons")


End file.
